Unclear Skies
by VCRx
Summary: Skylar Ronalds remembered when his life seemed carefree. He remembered when his family was together. But today he will take one last flight - into unclear skies. (World War 2 Short Story)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** VCRx does not own anything in the PJO universe. Rights belong to Rick Riordan, and Disney Hyperion. This disclaimer will apply to all chapters of the story. Thanks!

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 **World of Gods Short Story One: Unclear Skies  
**

 **Part One**

 ** _Unclear Skies is a short story about a son of Zeus and his last recon mission during World War II. This will be the first, in a small collection of short stories placed in the Percy Jackson Universe._**

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Skylar Ronalds remembered when his life was carefree. He remembered the times when his family was together. Those times were so long ago, back in a time when the world was gray, yet the future looked bright.

Oh how he often he found himself contemplative of the past.

Such a wonderful past.

In the distance, a sharp shriek screeched through the thick concrete walls from outside; sirens signaling the beginning of what would end up being the end. The end of a gods-forsaken feud that had already claimed millions in pointless fighting.

Skylar rose from his small bunk and snatched up his pilot's cap from under his pillow. He laid down his flimsy copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, and took one long look around the tight fitting quarters, that he had graciously called home for the past eight months. He hoped he would live to finish the book.

He prayed in the name of his father, that he would make out this mission alive.

The missions over Europe had gotten more and more dangerous by the day. Every flight he took could end up being his last.

Skylar sighed to himself, remembering that single moment only five years ago, that had caused all this bloodshed.

He remembered that dreadful night atop Mt Olympus. That dreadful meeting that had brought upon this world so much bloodshed. If his actions had been even the slightest, maybe all of this would've never happened.

He shook at himself. Luckily, he was alone in the quarters – else his peers would think he was having a fit.

'I shouldn't stay caught up upon the past. Nothing can be changed,' he thought to himself, before tidying his little place and hurrying out.

His lieutenants would be furious with him again, no matter what his parentage was, if he was late for this mission.

This was the mission that they had been preparing for weeks for.

Skylar patted down his clothing, straightening his uniform as he shuffled out the door of Bunker 1B, and raced down, skidding his way towards the runways. There, already dozens of his fellow pilots were awaiting orders near the lines of Meteors Jets that were being prepped up for one grand mission.

Despite the heat of the summer, Skylar shivered in his suit, weary of the next day or two that would follow.

It was early morning out, and beyond the airfields – the grand white cliffs of Dover fell down into a violent mash of waves that made up the English Channel.

Thick wafts of fog covered the bay with a dark gray blanket.

Throughout the rocky coastline, thousands of soldiers were milling on the beaches – loading up upon hundreds of vessels.

Skylar looked towards the fog covered bay, wondering how many boats and men were already making their journey towards Normandy.

"Ronalds, Skylar!" yelled the lieutenant who stood atop a tall ladder, reading off a mess of papers which ruffled in the blistering winds.

"Here!" Skylar yelled, as he made it towards the back of the crowd in the hurry.

"Rondle, Mark?" Skylar stopped listening after that. There was no point listening to the roll call after his name was called.

He glanced at the lines of jet fighters that would be in the air soon enough.

Skylar stared at the windy cool skies that whispered despite the incoming warmth of the summer sun.

The sirens that had blistered the air lowered in strength, and was easily replaced by the hundreds of impatient voice from down by the bay.

Nicknamed Operation Neptune, since the sons of Poseidon had organized the feat, thousands of armed men would find themselves on Norman beaches by late afternoon.

And the bloodshed will renew with fierce vigor.

"Attention, men!" the lieutenant called out, regaining Skylar's attention. "Men. Our time, has come. You've prepared yourselves in so many ways, your fathers and their fathers before them would be proud."

There was a cheer.

"We've went over this drill a million times. We've toiled for this. We've worked our best, and the world deserves no less. Our French brethren, our Russian cousin, they – they are in our need. For near four years, we've allowed the German menace choke down upon the lands and people of Europe. But today – today my brothers, we stand against the Reich! We stand against Hitler! We stand for the freedom and the rights of the world! We stand as the hope and light of the free world. We stand to take back the mainland! For today, today is the day we have all been preparing for. From our first days on this world to this very moment now, everything has led up to this."

The lieutenant scowled, looking at each pilot, including Skylar right in the eyes.

"Men! If you are still ill prepared. If this journey – if these plans is out of your ability. If you even have the slightest second thought, the slightest hesitation – I asked you to turn back now. I will tell you, make way back to your bunks – gather you little precious belongings and skedaddle back to where you call your home. Because this mission requires that every single pilot – every single soldier, to be 110%. The people of Europe deserve no less, than absolute bravery. For we, will lead the way into the fight for France! The fight for the World!"

Not a single person walked, and with an almost spontaneous yell, everyone jumped in celebration.

Today was the beginning of the end.

If only they knew they were cheering happily – for their graves.


	2. Chapter 2

**World of Gods Short Story One: Unclear Skies**

 **Part Two**

 _ **Unclear Skies is a short story about a son of Zeus and his last mission during World War II. This will be the first, in a small collection of short stories placed in the Percy Jackson Universe.**_

The jet engine growled as the son of Zeus excited the ignition.

"Heh. Those Nazi's won't see what'll be coming their way, won't they?" Thomas spoke loudly over the whirling engines in the semi-prototype plan as he entered the plane, refitting his helmet on, so that hopefully it wouldn't fall off. Thomas' bright green eyes sparkled in excitement as he pulled the heavy door closed before locking it shut. The sheer volume from the exterior engines dramatically faded; shielded by the walls of the plane. "With this baby, we'll fly _circles_ around those dogs. Forget about dogfight. It'll be a game of cat and mouse."

Thomas bounced into his co-pilot's seat before pulling a safety strap across his chest. Skylar wasn't yet sure yet about how necessary the new safety precaution would be. They had introduced it as a standard procedure recently, but Skylar only found that it restricts pilot maneuverability.

"Oh I don't know about _circles,_ but these new jets will sure make their heads spin!" Skylar grinned, double checking his controls.

" _Jet BARRON, spin via 5, on 3"_ **(A/N: I have no idea what they used for their codes. Just go along with it.)**

Skylar nodded to the instructions, and picked up his radio. "Roger, Roger," he spoke back, telling command they had received their instructions.

Thomas unhooked his strap, before heading towards the back. "Forgot to check the ammunition. Be back in a jiffy," he said before he sauntered off.

Skylar chuckled at the rookie in the form of Thomas Barton. Skylar's previous co-pilot was on holiday, so Thomas had been assigned to fill in the position. It was his first mission.

In truth, Thomas to an extent reminded him of himself. Skylar recalled it had only been near seven months since his very first mission. He had started in his exact same position: A rookie filling in for co-pilot.

"'Suppose your even the slightest nervous, rookie?" Skylar chatted, grinning from ear to ear as Thomas re-buckled.

"Maybe just a bit," Thomas said, before closing his eyes. "I'm not dreaming right? This is an actual mission?"

Skylar shook his head. "Nah, Tom. You fell asleep in front of the radio at your place back in Boston." He glanced down at his watch trying to now grin too wide. "You should wake up soon in fact."

Thomas grew a most frightened expression, before blushing and realizing the humor in the statement."

"Har – Har. You think you're funny, don't you?" Thomas rolled his eyes, but pinched himself as a precaution. He flinched.

"Hey, you can't be too careful. Dreams can sometimes be nasty sons of bi-" Skylar said, before noticing the plane in line in front of them was already well down its way down the runway.

Skylar readied up and started the growling jets to a strength that allowed the plane to roll down the way.

" _JET BARRON, the skies are yours,"_ command spoke.

Then, they were off.

The skies were undoubtedly opaque.

As their jet ascended through the low-lying clouds of the English Channel, the duo's visions retreated into swirling patterns of ash.

Below them, grumbling tides washed upon themselves. The murky sea leaned back, intrigued by the event that was soon to come.

For a handful of dozens of planes, their mission was almost as important as the marines that sheltered on floating rafts 9000 meters below. As the jets operated unsteadily – easily vulnerable to northerly gusts that caused any untrained or trained pilot alike – to be on guard, trembling.

You never knew when enemy planes would come into sight.

You never knew when enemy planes would be listening into their conversations. It was best they stick away from the radio.

"So you really think Operation Overlords going to work?" Thomas asked suddenly, trying to form a conversation. They had quite an amount of time to fill up, as Normandy was still very distant from where they had lifted off in Dover.

Skylar kept his eyes trained as the plane finally escaped from the trenches of clouds. His grip hardened on the controls. "Oh I don't know. My cousin says it's gotta work. Hitler's running out of plans. Troops. His attention is split," Skylar answered, shrugging.

"You think the Germans bought it? I've heard from the 101th that Hitler's left the place defenseless!" Thomas said excitedly. Skylar considered explaining to Thomas that one shouldn't have optimistic thoughts when entering a battle, but realizing it wouldn't do much good.

"I doubt it," Skylar frowned easing back into his seat. "The Nazis might be crazy and power hungry, but stupid? Even with the Russia encroaching and the invasion in Sicily, they've bound to have Normandy _somewhat_ defended!"

Thomas frowned, before changing the topic. "You think we'll live to see tomorrow?"

Skylar had to smile at the question. "You think I sign to not?"

Thomas blinked. "How many missions have you flown?"

Skylar lowered his head, preparing for this moment. He had prayed he'd be given a co-pilot that would recognize him name more than just as a simple pilot.

Skylar shrugged. "More than a dozen, I think. But most were just recon, you know? Non action. Non exciting stuff."

Thomas didn't buy the diversion.

"Come on, you're the Skylar Ronalds. Ol' Lightning, they call you down in the barracks.

Skylar cringed at the nicknamed that he'd received when he became a known ace. In the few missions where there were _some_ action, he dominated the skies. Although most of his success could've been linked to the fact that sons of Zeus were natural pilots, like how sons of Poseidon were natural sailors. In the skies, he was at peace. In his comfort zone.

If he wanted too, he could've closed his eyes, and sense every single soul with a dozen miles. He could've let go of the controls and the plane would fly itself. If he wanted too, he could send lightning bolts to smatter German craft before they were even within firing range.

But he didn't want to use his powers. He often felt them as unfair. A simple cheat in life that he'd been born into.

He couldn't say he didn't appreciate his heritage. He just hated the attention that naturally came when one was a demi-

Then, Thomas' voice rang through Skylar's ears. "WAKE UP! WE'RE UND-"

 **VCRx fully recognizes and apologizes for all the inaccuracies portrayed about the American Air Force. He would like to blame the matter upon his laziness to place time into researching towards the topic.**

 **Thanks!**


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